Chapter Ten
Wrapped up in my duvet, I shuffle around the flat, grumbling hoarsely to myself. Sod’s law that I should feel like utter crap on my day off.
After rifling through the cupboards and finding them all but bare, I concede that there’s no other option but to brave the elements and pick up painkillers and cough medicine. And maybe a can of tomato soup, Dad used to serve me soup in bed whenever I felt rotten, and it always helped ease what ailed me.
Unfortunately, it’s unacceptable to face the public in a duvet, so I throw a navy jumper over my pyjama top and pull on a pair of joggers. As I head out of the door in search of supplies, the sun overhead seems to mock me with its bright, warm beams that bathe the streets in a golden glow. Why am I sniffling and coughing like a Victorian child with consumption when it’s nearly summer? It doesn’t make sense, and it’s certainly not fair.
When I reach the local supermarket, I head straight for the soups and peruse the shelves carefully. One can of tomato soup left, perfect!
On tip-toe, I reach for the can just as another hand does, and our fingers lightly brush against each other.
‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ I gasp.
‘No, it’s -’ The stranger halts and stares at me for half a heartbeat. It’s Kit, the groom who came in with his sister last week. Zoe’s groom . His golden-hazel eyes shine, narrowing just slightly with a smile. ‘Ah, we meet again.’
Mortified by my dishevelled appearance, I smooth my pale hair down as best I can and tug at my sweater sleeve. ‘Erm, did you want the soup?’
Kit shakes his head, the whisper of a smirk glinting at the corner of his mouth. ‘Nah, you look like you could do with it more than me.’
Was that supposed to be an insult?
Before I can question him, he stalks off and out of sight. Ugh, what a frustrating man! Honestly, he and Zoe deserve each other.
I gather the rest of my shopping and after paying, I scuttle out into the street with my shoulders hunched, praying I won’t bump into Kit again, or God forbid, his fianceé. That’s the problem with this place, it’s too small! At least in London, no one cared if you looked a mess, everyone was too busy with their own lives. In Paris though, if you dared to step out with messy hair and mismatching bottoms, you’d be getting some scathing looks from the locals.
Speaking of locals, I spot Lucy hurrying across the road, wringing her wrists fretfully before her.
‘Hey, Luce!’ I call out, waving. I don’t mind her seeing me in this state, since I’ve already seen her flustered and covered in herbal tea, we’re pretty much even.
‘Hi!’ She jogs over to my side, and frowns when she approaches. ‘Oh, you don’t look so good.’
‘I’m not, in all honestly.’ With an embarrassingly loud sniff, I bury my nose into a tissue. ‘Forgive me for saying, but you don’t look so good, either. What’s up?’
Lucy toes the ground, then looks up at me with anxious eyes. ‘It’s this stupid ball thing. I didn’t realise just how much I was taking on.’ Groaning, she counts out all the tasks on her fingers. ‘I mean, there’s the book signings, the meet-and-greets, the press interviews, and don’t even get me started on the costume.’
Like a cat hearing an opening tuna can, my ears prick up. ‘Costume?’
She nods. ‘I need a regency-style dress for the event, you know, like the sort the heroines from my books would wear. I drove up to Gladeswood yesterday to raid the party supply shops, but there wasn’t anything suitable.’
Already, the cogs in my mind begin to turn, mentally conjuring up a gown fit for an author of regency romance.
Empire line, of course, in a soft shade of champagne gold to complement her complexion …
‘I think I might be able to help.’
As if she’s just realised she’s talking to a dressmaker, Lucy’s mouth drops open. ‘Oh Lottie, could you? I mean, would you have enough time? The ball is only a few weeks away.’
‘I can handle it,’ I insist. ‘We can’t have Lily Vale’s writing royalty turning up to her own ball in anything but a bespoke gown fit for a lady.’
With a squeal of delight, she throws her arms around my shoulders and pulls me into a huge cuddle. ‘You’re an absolute star , Lottie!’
I cough awkwardly, the praise making me weirdly uncomfortable. Almost as if I don’t deserve it.
‘Come on, let’s get to the shop. We need to get you measured up right this minute if I’m going to make this dress in time.’
‘But it’s your day off, and you need to get back into bed, don’t you?’ Lucy’s mouth twists. ‘I’m not being funny, Lottie, but you look awful.’
‘I’m aware. But it will only take a second, and it means I can get straight to work on it when I do feel better. Besides, I’ve got to go back to the boutique anyway considering my flat is above it, you might as well come with me’.
It doesn’t take us long to get to the boutique and I unlock the door and show Lucy in. I usher her through to the changing room, where I swiftly take measurements for her gown.
‘Right, I’ve got them all jotted down.’ Shaking my locks backwards, I hang the tape measure around my neck. ‘Do you have any idea of what sort of colour you might like?’
‘I’m hopeless at this sort of thing,’ Lucy groans. ‘What would you recommend?’
‘I was thinking a soft gold, it would really make you pop and look like a star on your big night.’
‘Soft gold it is, then!’ She stands perfectly still as I select a couple of fabric options and drape them one by one over her shoulders. ‘So, how did the bridal appointment go?’
I chew on my lip, wondering how much I should divulge. ‘It … it didn’t go so good, to be honest.’
‘Oh, how come? Was she a super fussy bride, or something?’
‘Most brides are fussy, and so they should be, it’s the biggest day of their lives, after all.’ I sigh. ‘But the bride in question was someone I knew, and let’s just say we’re not exactly friends. Not anymore, at least.’
‘Ah, you had a falling out?’
‘You might say that. Except that we were never truly friends in the first place.’ The confusion on Lucy’s face makes it clear that my cryptic responses are getting us nowhere, so I turn frank. ‘We both worked for prestigious fashion houses and met in New York, two weeks before Fashion Week. She stole my designs and had her team alter their collection so that they could debut this really cutting-edge gown before we had the chance to. It was a disaster, I was fired instantly.’
Lucy’s mouth has gone slack. ‘What a bitch!’
‘It was my fault, really. I allowed myself to trust her and I gave too much away.’ I finger the tape measure pensively. ‘It’s why I’m a bit … guarded , these days.’
‘Well, I’m not bloody surprised, what a horrible woman!’ She raves furiously, flapping her arms about so the fabric draped across them flutters to the floor. ‘You didn’t actually agree to make her wedding dress, did you?’
Helplessly, I shrug. ‘Well …’
‘Oh Lottie, you can’t!’
‘I don’t really have a choice in the matter, I mean, this is my first ever bridal booking, I can’t turn it down.’
Lucy plants her hands on her hips, her lips pursed. ‘Well, okay. But just be careful, right?’
Her warning sends a chill spider-walking across the nape of my neck. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Once a mean girl, always a mean girl. I would keep my wits about me if I were you. If she’s hurt you once, I wouldn’t put it past her to do it again.’
As I send Lucy off with a wave and a promise to have a first draft design ready in a couple of days, I toy with the idea that she might be right. So far, it’s just been back-handed compliments and snarky remarks, but could Zoe have something worse up her sleeve? Surely not, the only reason she betrayed me last time was to advance her career, now I have nothing she wants. I mean, she’s paying me for a service, she’s hardly going to plot my downfall right before her wedding, is she?
Still, as I traipse upstairs to my flat and stick the soup into the microwave to heat, Lucy’s words of caution snake through my mind, making me feel even sicker than I already do.